Cunning is an Art
by Miss Mungoe
Summary: A lot of things won't fly with a girl like her, but he's not one to back down from a challenge. – Laxana, some mentions of GaLe.
1. Flattery

AN: So...I've branched out! Just a little bit, because I felt like doing something new, but also because I wanted to give Rae a quirky piece of fun, because although she lives across the globe and in a different time zone, I'm forever blown away by how severely cool she is, not to mention generous and just the best kind of buddy anyone could hope to have. Happy SUPER DUPER BELATED BIRTHDAY, YA LOONY GAL.

Also, **lilithkiss,** considering how you got me into Laxana in the first place with your awesome artwork, consider this a shout-out of appreciation to you as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.

* * *

**Cunning is an Art**

**by Miss Mungoe**

1. Flattery, or how not to get punched in the face

"Would you look at those two."

Resting her elbow on the bartop, Cana threw her companion a sidelong glance as she indicated across the room. "Dancing around each other like that. You ever seen something that ridiculous?"

Laxus threw a look at the pair in question, quirking a blonde brow. "What's ridiculous about it?"

Cana waved a hand towards their sudden topic of conversation. "What's _not_ ridiculous? Look at him, all awkward like he doesn't know his left from his bloody right! Like what she's doing doesn't _scream_ that she's interested." She shook her head. "Idiots. The whole guild knows there's somethin' goin on except the two of them. Ya'd think a gal as smart as Levy would figure it out."

To her surprise, Laxus simply shrugged. "Sometimes the things that are right in front of you are the hardest to see." And, because she was giving him an incredulous look that seemed to ask where the hell he'd gone and left his nuts, Laxus let a smirk tug at his lips. "Although it doesn't surprise me that Redfox knows nothing about how to pick up a woman."

Cana guffawed at that. "Careful, Dreyar. Speakin' like that, you almost sound like you know what you're talkin' about." She lifted her mug to her lips, shaking her head, visibly amused.

Laxus merely smirked, but said nothing, leaving the answer hanging between them. And as expected, a second later he saw the tell-tale sign of intrigue kindling in her eyes, and knew what was on its way off her tongue before she'd even said it.

"So, Laxus Dreyar thinks he's got more game than Bolts-for-Brains. Well, well." She grinned, and it was distinctly mocking. "What, d'ya stare them into submission with your dark, broody gaze? D'ya tell em sad stories of your neglected childhood?" She smirked. "And here I thought daddy issues only worked for women."

He returned the smirk. "You'd be surprised."

The joke – a rarity even for him, had her throwing her head back, brown curls falling around her shoulders as she roared with laughter. He tore his eyes away from the smooth line of her exposed collarbone, fixing it instead on her vicious grin. She tipped her mug against his, a sign of camaraderie.

"Aw, man, do you crack me up! Holy hell, if I didn't know you, I might've been convinced. Though for all I know that whole 'tortured soul' shit you've got going on actually works on some girls." She shook her head, as though imagining that particular scenario. "Oh, Lord..."

Laxus raised a brow. "You don't believe me."

She snorted. "Astute observation, Mr. Thrift Shop. I see you were dropped in the deep end of the gene pool." She rolled her eyes. _"Heck_ _no_, I don't believe you. I haven't seen you so much as make eyes at a woman in all the years I've known you, let alone actually try your luck. And that ain't for lack of attention." The last part was muttered under her breath, but he caught in nonetheless.

"Been watching me, have you?" he grumbled back. "It's not practice that does it, you know. You've either got it, or you don't." He shrugged. "Simple as that."

"Simple my _ass_, Broody McBroodster! Just because you haven't tried it doesn't mean you can flap your gums about how easy it is."

"Just because _you_ haven't experienced being picked up by someone who knows what they're doing, doesn't mean you can flap _your_ gums about it," he countered, not missing a beat, and her brows narrowed sharply at his insinuation.

"What're you hinting at, Dreyar?" she snapped.

He smirked, and shrugged. "Nothing at all. Just that you shouldn't talk so much about something you obviously don't know anything about, _Alberona_."

She barked another laugh. "Oh, really? And what the hell does that make _you_ then, Master Charmer?" She did a mock bow to accompany the title, waving her arm in a grandiose gesture. "_Please, _elaborate."

Laxus sighed. "I haven't said I'm an expert, just that I know what I'm doing."

She nodded, "And to which I call bullshit. There ain't no way you can just _know_ how to pick up a girl. It takes _practice_."

He snorted. "It takes basic knowledge of the person you're about to hit on. You don't need a tutorial to get it right, just some choice words and gestures."

"Easy in theory, dude. _Not_ so easy in practice. Just look at Iron Man over there," she gestured towards Gajeel and Levy again. "Poor sod's probably never picked up a woman in his life. Or if he has, it won't have been someone like girly, all sweet and proper-like. The guy can't even look her in the eye!"

Laxus shrugged. "He likes her. Her opinion of him matters, and the thought of her rejecting him makes him nervous. It just means he doesn't want to screw up – that doesn't make him stupid. More the opposite, considering how he isn't going at her with cheesy pick-up lines." He smirked. "Or maybe that's it?" He asked, shooting her a significant look. "Jealous no one's ever come at you with somethin' decent? And here I thought the_ daddy issues_ would have men come running."

He saw her hands tighten around her mug, knuckles turning white with the pressure, and her eyes narrowed sharply. A moment passed, and she didn't say anything – and Laxus' smirk widened at how close to the mark he'd hit. "Bingo," he muttered, lifting his mug to his lips.

Cana seethed, "_Ass_," she snapped. "I ain't takin' this crap from _you_." She waved her now empty mug in his face. "I get my fair share of attention, I'll have you know."

He smirked. "Oh, I'm _sure,"_ he drawled, purposefully making himself sound unconvinced to rile her up. Of course, he was more than aware of the attention she drew. Hell, everyone in the whole damn _guild_ was. A simple turn of her head drew eyes; anything else nearly had people falling out of their chairs. Even now, he could feel the leering looks, like a prickling sensation across his skin. She got her fair share, alright. _Twice over._ But that didn't make it any less amusing to see how angry she got at the merest insinuation of anything else. Behind the sass and the confident attitude, Laxus figured she also had more than her fair share of messed up shit. Hell, 'daddy issues' were probably just brushing the surface.

_Takes one to know one, huh. _He refrained from snorting at the unbidden thought. After all, there was an ocean of difference between her old man and his. But he wasn't about to demean her problems because Ivan was a psychopath; even if Gildarts had been around since she was a kid, it didn't make up for the fact that he hadn't known. At least in that regard, they were in the same boat. He was well-acquainted with the feeling of not measuring up.

Something flickered in her eyes, and he tensed, expecting her mug to come sailing at his face, but she merely tightened her grip around it, never taking her eyes off him. He had to hand it to the girl – for all her avoidance issues regarding her old man, she didn't back down from a challenge.

Which was part of what made riling her up so damn amusing.

He let another smirk grace his face, knowing full well that if the next words out of his mouth didn't get him a fist to the face, it was sure to warrant some pretty nasty remarks. "Maybe it's the attitude that scares them off," he said conversationally, tilting his head as he studied the throbbing vein in her slender throat. He shrugged. "Probably why guys go after girls like Mira or McGarden. A little decorum goes a long way, you know. And you swear like a man twice your size."

"_Oye_," Cana growled. "You watch your _goddamn_ mouth."

He rolled his eyes. "Like I was _saying_..."

He watched her shoot to her feet, fingers slipping away from the mug before she drew her arm back, fist clenching with the clear intent to sock him. But before she'd pulled her arm back fully, though, he'd followed, rising to his feet smoothly with the speed of the element that thrummed along his veins like a pulse. It was a quick, fluid movement, and it caught her off guard. He saw surprise flicker in her dark eyes, before they narrowed, and then her fist came sailing towards his face.

He tilted his head, the action minuscule but effective – and, he guessed with an inward smirk, annoying as _hell_ – and she tipped forward, cursing under her breath as she fell. He was quicker, grabbing hold of her wrist to keep her from falling, and when she tried to pull her hand back and out of his grip, the action sharp like she'd been burned, he followed the movement without pause, sliding his fingers up the soft underside of her arm in one smooth motion. He heard her breath hitch in her throat, heard her heart take a leap at the unexpected action, and felt a smirk tug at his lips as her temperature shot through the roof. His fingers traced the hollow of her elbow, rounded the curve of her shoulder in a breath, before sliding up to cup the back of her head, weaving through the dark mass of her hair.

The anger was gone from her eyes, no longer narrowed but almost comically wide in her face, and he grinned as he leaned forward, fanged smile brushing against the shell of her ear. "This," he rumbled, lowering his voice, and felt more than saw the goosebumps as they rose on her exposed skin, "is how I'd start, if I was going to pick you up." He couldn't see the look on her face, but felt the shiver that raced through her. His smirk widened.

"And even if you know it already, I'd tell you that you're _gorgeous,"_ he slid his fingers down the back of her head, to her neck, "_distracting_," he splayed his fingers against the skin between her shoulder-blades, left bare by her shirt. "And," he continued, "that you should wear your hair up more often, because you've got a damn fine neck." He heard her breath catch in her throat, and pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze squarely with his own. "Then..." He angled his head, just the barest fraction of a movement, but his intention was more than clear.

He watched her eyes flutter, uncertainly at first, suspicion clinging to her lashes like droplets of water, before her eyes drifted closed, and he had to suppress a grin at the act of submission so completely contrary to her rambunctious personality. She tilted her head a little in turn, and there was nothing about her behaviour now that told him he was about to be greeted with a closed fist to the face. The tension in her shoulders had melted somewhat, and her fingers had loosened their fierce grip. Her breath escaped her in a sigh, and he felt more than saw her relax.

_Bingo. _

"...then I'd back away, because your old man would skin me alive if I so much as looked at you wrong."

Her eyes flew open, only to find him smirking, and then he released her, hand falling away from her neck, fingers gliding out of her dark hair, and now she did tip forward, but caught herself on the countertop. His ears caught the surprised murmurs from around the room, the volume rising suddenly as though the air had been let back into the room – as though the people gathered had held their collective breaths.

Then he was walking away, trying not to grin too much. He wasn't looking at her as he threw a hand up in a parting salute, sauntering calmly past a gaggle of gaping guildmembers. The din had risen past it's normal level, and he let it wash over him, unduly pleased with himself.

He'd just walked out the front doors when he heard her voice, devoid of anything so much as resembling _submission_, cutting through the din like a knife as she hollered after him,

"_**ASS!" **_

Laxus shoved his hands into his pockets, and felt a grin stretch across his face.

He'd give her five minutes.

* * *

"–told you she wouldn't see it coming if it did. Look at how surprised she was! I bet you she had no idea he was interested in the first place!" Levy whispered as Cana disappeared to the back of the guild in a storm of choice expletives, of which 'castrate' and 'blonde prick' were particularly emphasised. From their seats they'd had a good view of the spectacle that had just taken place – a show which had, blessedly, taken the attention of the room off themselves. It was difficult to be at ease around each other when everyone was watching them all the time, not to mention how awkward Gajeel got whenever he picked up on it. He couldn't even look her in the eye if he thought someone was looking at them.

At complete ease now that he was out of the spotlight, Gajeel snorted. "Figures. That's what you get for being so damn aloof all the bloody time. Should've shown he was interested before."

She raised a brow. "Oh, you mean like _you_ did?"

"Oye, I built ya a bloody bookcase, what more d'ya want for a sign?"

She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "Good point. It's the best attempt at a pick-up I've ever gotten."

He glared at her. "Out of how many_?"_

Her grin was decidedly innocent, and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek despite his injured grumble. "No other _bookcases,_ I can tell you that much," she chirped.

He merely settled for glaring at her, and she laughed, glad he was at least relaxed enough to let her within arm's reach. Tilting her head, her eyes wandered to the front doors through which the blonde dragonslayer had just walked out, and noted that hers was not the only gaze surveying the guild hall. "You think she'll follow him?" she asked after a moment.

Gajeel shrugged. "Hard ta tell with someone like her. Can't push 'er too far; she'll back off out of spite."

"What do you think he said to make her so flustered?"

Gajeel snorted. "Somethin' ridiculous, no doubt. The guy hardly ever opens his goddamn mouth. My guess is he botched it."

"You sure? It looked to me like she was pretty enraptur–"

She was cut off by Cana storming past their table, and clamped her mouth shut. But not soon enough, apparently, as the brunette ground to a halt beside them, dark eyes furrowed in a fierce glare. Pointing a finger at the two of them, seemingly ignoring their close proximity that would otherwise have earned them a cat-call, she snapped, "You mind your own business!" before stalking off towards the exit.

"Where ya goin', Alberona?" Gajeel called after her, a feral grin tugging at his mouth. Levy rolled her eyes, but couldn't stifle her own smile as they watched the card-mage storm off.

Cana didn't look back at him as she hollered, "To skin myself a dragon, that's what!"

Gajeel snorted, turning his gaze back to Levy, who was looking after the brunette with a quizzical look on her face. He frowned. "What?"

"...did she go back there to put her hair up?"

* * *

AN: PURE AND UNABASHED FUNSIES, PEEPS. This is a light-hearted piece that will probably get more chapters, in the style of my Gajeel/Levy collection _Semantically Correct, _if you're familiar with it. Unless, of course, my handling of Laxana was so atrocious you've gone blind. Leave me a note with what you think?


	2. Charm

A humongous thank-you to all you lovely folks who've left feedback! It's definitely spurred me into continuing, and I've taken your comments to heart. This is new territory for me, but I'm enjoying getting to know these two and how they work together.

Note: I've made some subtle changes to Cana's speech pattern (and edited the first chapter accordingly), as I got a few comments that it was too rough, and that she doesn't talk like that in the anime. It was just my personal take on her character, but I don't want to get too creative, so I've tweaked it a little bit (and hope it's okay now?).

**Warning**: there be some coarse language in this here chapter, aye.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does.

* * *

2. Charm, or how to seduce someone without losing an eye

"Oye, Laxus!"

She was sure her voice carried, hollered as her words were down the street leading from the guild and into the centre of the town. But of course he was pretending not to _hear_ her, hands stuffed insufferably in his pockets as though he was the bloody epitome of carefree nonchalance.

Oh, she'd give him nonchalance. A nonchalant kick to his smug fucking _face._

"_**Dreyar!"**_

She saw him stop, and tilt his head back, as though sighing to the heavens, and Cana felt her temper flare like a furnace. Oh, he was _not_ going to pretend _she_ was trying _his_ patience after the crap he'd just pulled in the guild!

The brief memory sent a shiver down her arms, and she fumed silently at her own reaction. And then she fumed some more, and not so silently, as she watched him turn around lazily, regarding her from across the street like she'd better hurry her ass _up_ because he had somewhere more important to be.

And that was the absolute last straw, because Cana Alberona did not, under any circumstances no matter how dire, _give chase. _No sir-ee, and most certainly not to smug, blonde dragonslayers who should know better. She'd always been chased – _always_. And if the blonde regarding her coolly from a few feet away somehow didn't know, she was going to give him a reminder he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

...at least that was what she'd been busy convincing herself, before a knowing smirk curled along his mouth, and she felt warmth in her belly that had nothing to do with her temper.

She was pretty sure she wasn't above homicide if he didn't wipe that look off his mug this _instant_–

"Four minutes. I'm impressed."

Her brows furrowed at the smooth drawl, and she halted in her tracks, clenched fist falling against her sides. "What?"

He shrugged, but hadn't dropped the smirk. "You're more eager than I'd anticipated. Guess that makes me right then."

She scoffed. "Right about _what,_ exactly?"

He hadn't taken his eyes off her, and was still giving her that infuriating smile. Like he was privy to something she wasn't but had no intention of telling her.

Then he was stepping into her personal space, the movement so fast she hadn't had time to react, and she drew a startled breath, just barely managing to keep her ground and not stumble back to fall on her ass. He didn't quite laugh, but his amusement was palpable. "About picking up women," he said then. "I was right. All you need is basic knowledge of the person in question, and..." He was way too close for comfort, but didn't seem to notice or care. "You've got to know which buttons to push."

And then he was pulling back again, as though he made a habit of getting into people's faces when talking to them, which she knew for a fact was_ not true. _

"Oye–"

"You're welcome, by the way."

Whatever she'd been about to say halted on her tongue, and Cana nearly choked, not sure she'd heard him right. _"Excuse me?" _

Laxus tilted his head, regarding her coolly. "How long has it been since someone's actually made an effort?"

She clenched her fists, fingers curling against her palms, pressing down almost painfully, and she knew that if he said anything else along those lines she would not be held responsible for the carnage she left in her wake. "You better think real hard about what you're about to say next, Dreyar, because so help me..." Who the hell gave him the right to poke his nose into her private affairs, anyway? She'd told him she got her fair share of attention, and she _did._ She got more than her share, thank you very damn much!

He sighed, and then the humour was gone from his face, and he was looking at her with...something she couldn't quite place. But there was definitely a _look _there_._

"What are–"

"You're worth more effort than a drink and a sleazy remark, you are aware of that?"

Whatever she'd thought he'd been about to say – on a scale from condescending to outright mocking – it sure as hell wasn't _that_. And she would have thought he _was_ mocking her, if it hadn't been for the eerily serious look on his face. The kind of look he gave people to assure them that he wasn't talking shit.

And curse her, all she could do was gape like a goddamn _fish._

That earned her a quirk of the lips, but she couldn't summon enough anger to sock him for it. "Just thought you ought to know. Just because you're not McGarden doesn't mean you've got to settle for some leering idiot." He shrugged, as though to punctuate his words, even though they punctuated themselves just fine on their own, in Cana's opinion.

Of course, secretly cynical as she was, Cana felt her incredulity soon give way to suspicion – the kind that went hand-in-hand with her precious 'daddy issues'. "The hell are you telling me this for?"

The words sounded more wary than angry, and she bristled a little, hoping he hadn't caught it, although knowing full well that he probably had, what with that freakish sense of hearing. But she was not going to have a heart-to-heart with Laxus Dreyar, of all people, in the middle of the bloody street like some public spectacle. And if he thought he could illicit anything remotely similar to sensitivity from her, he had another thing coming.

He sighed heavily through his nose, and finally drew his eyes away from hers, resting his gaze on something across the street. Cana didn't let down her guard, though, but kept her fists clenched at her sides just in case he was planning on pulling something funny again. She was not going to be humiliated twice in one evening, _especially_ by him.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. "It was going to be part of an elaborate plan to seduce you, but something tells me I've blown it," he said, voice wry as he threw her a sidelong look.

For her part, Cana had lost count of how many times his words had thrown her for a loop in the course of one evening. The worst part, though, was that she couldn't for the life of her tell if he was joking or not. Raising a hand, she pointed an accusing finger at him, ignoring the way her hand shook. "Cut the crap. I swear if you don't–"

"Is it that hard to believe?"

She blinked, forgetting, _again,_ what she'd been about to say. She regarded him warily, finger still pointed accusingly at his chest. She said nothing to his question, though, not trusting her voice – or him, for that matter – and settled for simply watching him. A scant heartbeat later, he took a step closer, and she matched it by taking one backwards.

He gave her another look, as though she was somehow proving some point he was making, although she hadn't the faintest idea what.

"Is it that hard to believe," he asked again, this time taking a bigger step, and a curse fell from her lips as his fingers curled around the arm she was holding up, and this time when she took a step back, he matched her stride. "That I might actually be genuinely interested?"

She tugged at her arm, and he let it slip from his grip, but didn't make a move to step away from her. She glared, and tried to ignore the fact that he was standing way too close again. Anger still simmered in her stomach. Anger, and a good dose of hurt disbelief, because in all the years she'd known him, she'd never thought him to be the kind of dick to pull this particular brand of inexcusable crap. She wouldn't have put it past some members of the guild, but Laxus had always seemed the no-bullshit type, and she'd always figured that was true for how he treated women as well. And he'd never shown any kind of interest before their conversation in the guild earlier. What the hell was she supposed to think?

"I don't need the old man's magic to tear you a new one, Dreyar, so unless that's what you're after, I suggest you back the hell off," she snarled, settling for a defensive mechanism she was comfortable with. It beat the alternative, which she didn't want to think about, but which his close proximity made it very hard _not_ to think about. A stray memory of the feel of his fingers trailing along the underside of her arm had her nearly jerking away.

"You don't believe me," he said then, tilting his head as he regarded her closely, and Cana felt heat creep up the back of her exposed neck, and it reminded her, embarrassingly, of her split-second decision to actually _put her hair up_. She'd done it to gauge his reaction – to see if he was, in fact, being serious and not just saying shit to prove his point.

Now, though, she was quickly regretting that decision. They'd breached some kind of line, she was damn well aware of that much. And she didn't know how to get back behind it.

"Empty flattery ain't anything new to me, Dreyar," she snapped then, unreasonably angry suddenly, that he'd thought it would be that simple to get into her pants. If that was even what he was after. Hell if she knew. The guy kept his cards closer than most people. It wasn't even that she was all that averse to the idea, but goddamn it if she didn't have more pride than to just spread her legs for whoever dropped the right lines.

He gave her a look then, a mix between disgusted and incredulous at where her line of thinking had gone, and she felt like squirming at the sheer intensity of the stare. "I wasn't pretending," he said, voice strangely rough, and she tried her very hardest not to be affected by it.

His eyes flickered to her neck then, and he seemed to shake off whatever weird-assed thoughts that had prompted his earlier look. "You put your hair up."

She sneered at the suggestive tone. "Lay off. It was a test, nothing more."

He hummed under his breath. "I'm sure."

She growled. "It was. Don't read more into it than it is. Or what, you thought commenting on my _neck_ would win me over? Get over yourself." She snorted. "You're not getting any prizes for originality if that's what you're after."

He rolled his eyes at that. "I wasn't going for originality – I was going for the truth."

She bristled at the implication. "Yeah? Well it ain't anything _new."_

"You sure about that?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "_Yes_."

He leaned closer, and she sucked in a breath through her nose. He wasn't smirking now, she noticed vaguely.

"I don't think so. A blind man would see that you're gorgeous, and tell you that much, no doubt, but when was the last time someone told you it's not your chest that draws eyes, it's your voice? That it's not the ass that makes guys flock around you, but the fact that you can drink most of them under the table, and that you don't take crap from anyone? That unlike a lot of women, you're genuine to the marrow of your bones, and that that's a damn rare trait?"

Despite herself – and damn her but she _tried_ – Cana felt her breath hitch, but stubbornly kept her glare firmly in place. "Is that what _you're_ saying, Dreyar?" she sneered. She tried to ignore the waver in her voice, because damn it, she was _not_ being charmed out of her socks by the most stoic goddamn idiot in the whole bloody guild!

Now, he did smirk. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying, Alberona."

And damn her if she didn't have a single witty comeback to that remark.

He didn't say anything else, but didn't step away from her either, and suddenly Cana was aware that her fingers had loosened from their tightly clenched fists, and that her predominant thought wasn't the most effective way to knock his teeth out, but a curious question lurking at the back of her mind about what he was going to do next.

He seemed to be weighing his options, as though gauging whether or not his actions would get him a knee in the Dreyar family jewels – and for a split second she felt that he might get just that. But then he was closing the distance between them, fingers grasping her chin and tilting her head, and all coherent thought fled her mind.

She'd been kissed before, oh make no mistake about that. She'd felt them all – the awkward fumbling kisses of someone who has no idea what they're doing, and the teasingly slow ones that made you want to tear your clothes off with wild abandon. She was pretty sure Laxus was the kind of man who could very well pull off the latter kind, but he surprised her by going for something...different. It wasn't the kiss of someone eager to get into your pants – which was more pawing hands than any actual kissing. She'd had her fair share of those, too, so she'd know. But as the fingers brushing along her jaw reached around to cradle the back of her head, and a fanged smile pressed against her mouth with a determination that had to be a collective dragonslayer trait, Cana came to the conclusion that this...this was new. It wasn't gentle – she knew gentle kisses. They often went hand-in-hand with the awkward ones, or – _worse_ – the familiar apologies following badly made decisions. Gentle kisses were the 'it's not you it's me'-kisses, or the 'it was fun while it lasted but you're just not what I'm looking for'.

But this wasn't apologetic in the least, or even frenzied and passionate. It was insistent_, hell yes_ – like he was trying to make a point. Or that he had made a point, and was trying to make her see it. And damn it if it didn't make her toes curl, like she was some un-kissed schoolgirl out with her first crush.

The pimp-coat was fucking ridiculous, she'd always thought that, but the lapels were perfect for grabbing on to. Like it was made for reckless necking in dark alleyways, and holy hell if that thought didn't turn her on like crazy.

She felt the knowing smirk against her mouth, the tip of one sharp canine catching in her lower lip, and he chuckled – the sound a deep rumble in his chest, and she shivered in response. "Convinced yet?"

The question had her stomach folding in on itself, but she merely growled in return, tugging hard on his coat and biting down on his lip. He didn't stumble, but then he wasn't the type to. "Go to hell," she snarled against his mouth.

He grinned, and the warm hand trailing down between her shoulder blades had her jolting in surprise. "Join me then?"

_That_ made her pull back, and she glared up at him, hands pressed flat against his chest now – holding him at arm's length where she had seconds ago been trying to pull him as close as humanly possible. Infuriatingly, he took it all in stride, and matched her glare with a quirked brow. And Cana didn't know whether to pull him back down by the lapels of his coat or strangle him with the cords of his headphones.

"What is this?" she asked then. "What are you playing at? You in on a bet or something? Because if you _are–"_

He sighed again, as though _she_ was the one being difficult. "I thought I'd told you. And _showed_ you," he said, raising a suggestive blonde brow at the last remark.

Cana felt her cheeks flare with colour, but pushed the feeling down. "Think it's gonna take just a kiss, huh? The hell do you take me for?"

He smirked. "A challenge."

That comment made her temper spike. "Yeah? An experiment then?" she asked with a snort. "_Charming_."

He groaned. "Would you stop putting words in my mouth, woman? The hell do I have to do to convince you I'm genuinely interested?" The smirk was gone now, and he seemed more exasperated than anything. Cana felt something unnerving settle in her stomach – like the realization that he might well _be_ completely fucking serious.

She regarded him closely for a moment, just to make sure he wasn't about to pull any more unexpected crap. "One question," she said then.

He frowned. "Yeah?"

She drew a breath, but didn't let her hands fall from where they were still pressed against his chest. "You said my old man would skin you alive," she said, remembering his parting words at the guild.

He snorted. "Understatement of the year, perhaps, but yeah."

Her glare furrowed. "You willing to let him try?"

_That_ got her a reaction, and she watched not without a hint of self-righteous pleasure as his brows shot into his hairline. "I'm not sure what you're asking."

She knew this was it – if he _was_ serious, like he'd said, this was his chance to prove it. If not...well, that wasn't anything new. She'd get on with her life. "If you're not just yanking my chain, then prove it. Woo me. Publicly. And tell my old man while you're at it." She smirked. _Suck on __**that**__, you smug asshole. _

He looked at her for a long moment, and then shrugged. "Fine."

Cana blinked. "Huh?"

Now the smirk was back. "If that's what you want, I'll do it. I'll woo you."

She pursed her lips. "You better not be mocking me, Laxus Dreyar, because I'm telling you now, this ain't a bloody joke!"

He rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't risk having your old man eviscerate me just to mess with you, Cana. I'm not thick, and I don't have a death wish."

She straightened a little at that. "Yeah, well...you better not be." And that had to be the single lamest comment she'd manage to produce, ever. _Good going, Alberona. Nice, smooth comeback. _

He smirked. "Regretting your words already?"

"Hell no!" she snapped, and lifted her chin a fraction. "Whatever you throw at me, I can take it."

"Sounds like a challenge."

"Yeah? Well, make it one then."

Another raised brow met her words. "Now you're the one making it sound like an experiment."

Her scowl felt half-hearted and she knew he could see through it, just as easily as he could no doubt hear her heart slamming furiously against her ribs, but hell if she was going to let him get the better of her. "Prove that it isn't and then we'll talk," she said finally. "And you better mean it, and don't think I don't know the tricks," she warned. She'd been down this road before, and if he thought he could get away with some suave words he was sorely mistaken. As far as charmers went, she'd dealt with silver tongued men vastly more skilled with words than he was. Of course, most of those words had been carefully selected for the sole purpose of getting into her pants. The blunt, unapologetic honesty from the man standing before her now was...something else.

She hadn't been down _this_ particular road before, but she wasn't about to tell him _that._

He only shrugged off her warning. "I don't do things half-assed. But you've got to let your guard down a little, and–"

"Hey, I'll do whatever I damn well–"

"–_and_," he cut her off with a sharp look, "don't second-guess everything I do. I'm not yanking your chain, or whatever colourful expression you can dig up to describe it. I'm serious, but you've got to meet me halfway. Or are you afraid of the results?"

That did it. Competitive instinct laced with a good dose of genuine curiosity kicked her into action, and before she knew what she was doing, the words had tumbled off her tongue. "Fine."

She realised she was still touching him, and dropped her hands like they'd been burned, all the while studiously ignoring the keen eyes watching her. Growling, Cana crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Do your worst, Dreyar."

He grinned. "Fine."

"_Fine_."

He raised a brow at that, but said nothing, and she could feel the amusement as if it radiated off him, and now she felt like socking him again. And then, with a nod of his head – a goddamn _nod,_ as though he was in some bloody regency novel, he turned to walk away, hands once again stuffed into his pockets, his loping gait carrying him down the street as though he fucking owned it.

Cana watched him go, the remains of her anger still bubbling along the edge of her veins, and wondered idly what the hell she'd just agreed to.

"_Fuck."_

* * *

AN: Stay tuned for more shenanigans, and please leave feedback if you've got time!


End file.
